


lilac (believe me)

by zavynthrius



Category: GOT7
Genre: Alternate Universe - Gods & Goddesses, Angst, Jackson is barely there but he is thERE, Sad Ending, Short Chapters, Switching Points of View, Youngjae is a God, high angst sorry, not to spoil the mood or anything but suicide in the final chap, one-sided 2jae
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-22
Updated: 2018-09-22
Packaged: 2019-07-15 12:54:21
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 12
Words: 6,843
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16063583
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/zavynthrius/pseuds/zavynthrius
Summary: When he returned to the beach in the night, he was still wearing a grin. Youngjae emerged from the water yawning.“You’re back late.”“Sorry. I got carried away meeting everyone and then they invited me to dinner.” Youngjae hummed in approval.“I was kind of worried you weren’t coming back again,” he mumbled, accompanying Jaebeom’s walk to his shelter. Jaebeom shook his head, slinging his arm around Youngjae’s shoulder.“Don’t worry. I’ll always come back to the beach.”





	1. he walked

It was another wintry day. Nothing particularly stood out, until of course, it did. This was to be the day that changed his life forever.

Im Jaebeom was a cheeky seven-year-old, well-loved in the ocean-side village. Nothing could have been better in his life. He loved his family, content in their round mud-brick hut. He studied hard to read bigger, better books, and sincerely prayed to the village gods. He had it all, and then he didn’t.

He was almost home, about to be lifted into his father’s arms and asked what he learnt today. That was when bombs fell, the noise echoing closer and closer, clouds of dust and debris running toward him. It deafened out his own screams, but not his mother commanding him to run. At that time, it was wrong. Why was she asking him to run? Shouldn’t they be hiding, together? His father disappeared inside, for what he’ll never know. His mother abruptly kissed his forehead. Another bomb fell, completely deafening him. His mother’s eyes widened. She was screaming and screaming, mouthing a single word.

Run. He ran.

Into the forest, as fast and as far as his legs would carry him. Away from the bombs and the chaos. Everything he had was being destroyed, and all he could do was run. Where were the gods, he thought as his lungs burned. Were they protecting the village? He clasped his hands together in prayer. The ground descended, the trees thinned, and he ran and ran until the dirt turned into rock into sand.

The beach. He had run down the hill to the beach. He swivelled, looking behind him for the first time. The sun had set, painting the clouds blue, pink, and yellow. The high cliff face stared back imposingly, clouds of ash lifting high in the air. He looked out to the sea. Its lilac waves were silent.


	2. past him

He couldn’t pry his eyes away from a large swell. Out of the water walked a boy. It must have been a deity. Jaebeom was filled with inexplicable rage.  
 “Hey!” Jaebeom shouted, walking right up to him. The boy’s fringe was long and messy, but it didn’t hide his stare. “Where were you! The village was being attacked!”  
The boy was annoyingly silent. “Did you do anything? Can’t you do anything?” Jaebeom shoved him in a rush of anger. He fell over.

He just pushed a god over. He rushed an apology, bowing low as the boy stood weakly. The boy spoke in a soft yet clear voice.  
 “I’m sorry.”  
 “Huh?” Jaebeom straightened slowly, but didn’t dare make eye contact. He had never met a god before, but he was pretty sure they didn’t take kindly to humans disrespecting them. The water lapped, avoiding the boy’s ankles. 

 “I’m sorry… we failed you.” Jaebeom looked around. Who was we? The other gods?  
 “Where are the other gods?” Jaebeom questioned. The boy dug his heels into the sand.  
 “We weaken when our people die.” Die. His anger flared again. The gods stood aside as the village burned. How could they? “Forgive me,” he says suddenly. Jaebeom knows he must forgive the deity, he too could be killed at any second, but his heart isn’t quite ready to excuse it. He spent his whole life believing if he prayed every day, the gods would answer if he needed. “Please. If you do, I’ll give you anything.” A god begging a human? This was new. Jaebeom studied the god’s robes, in thought.  
 “Anything?”  
 “Anything. Believe me.”  
 “Okay, then bring my parents back.”

The god chuckled lightly. “Why are you laughing? You said anything.”  
 “I know, sorry. It’s just- wish for something else.”  
 “Then I don’t want anything else.”  
The god shifted from one foot to another in thought.  
 “How about I make you… immortal?” Jaebeom looked up at him. The god searched his face for objection, unbothered that Jaebeom was looking at him.  
 “What’s that?”  
 “You can live forever. No one can kill you. What do you think? Pretty nice, huh?” Jaebeom nods, transfixed by his sea blue eyes, which almost look royal purple in the dying light.  
 “Yeah. Okay. I want to live forever.”


	3. out

Jaebeom broke eye contact to glance back up toward the village. He couldn’t see. The only sound was the distant crashing waves. The god in front of him was quiet.  
Part of Jaebeom wondered if he actually was the deity of the sea, or just a sea fairy or something. Gods command presence, and dictate supreme wisdom. Youngjae had an unmistakeable supernatural presence, but he was too human. Where was his divine wisdom? Where was he when the village came under attack?

  
Jaebeom’s feet tracked backwards, before he knew it he was leaving the beach for the village. If the god was really all that powerful, he would stop him. He wasn’t anxious, but obviously worried what the damage was. The sky had mellowed out into the blue grey twilight. And there was nothing. The village that his life centred around was piles of ash. Bare rock foundations, the tin roofs of the marketplace and timber foundations burning brightly into the night. People, who weren’t people. Laid face down along the sandy roads in pools of red.

  
It was a brutal, for a seven-year-old. What was he supposed to do, he thought, turning and walking back to the beach. There was no way he could hope to continue like nothing happened.

  
He didn’t realise he was crying until he reached the sand again. Was it because his legs and bare feet ached, or because for the first time, he didn’t know where to go? Would he have to move to another village? The cold water of the high tide soothed his ankles. The god was nowhere, so he talked to the rising moon.  
 “Mr. Sea I don’t know what to do,” his voice broke. “Everyone is dead. I’m the only one left.”  
The boy washed up in front of him, yawning as though he were sleeping.  
 “Hmm?” The boy inquired, standing up in the shallow.  
 “Everyone is dead. You’re a god aren’t you? How come you didn’t do anything?”

He grimaced, bowing his head to let his black hair fall in his face.   
 “I can’t leave the beach, much less revive your people.”

Jaebeom ached all over.  
 “Mr. Sea I don’t know what to do now. Where am I going to sleep?”  
 “Just Youngjae is fine,” the boy bristled. “And don’t worry. As long as you believe in me I will take care of you.”


	4. into the water

Youngjae made him a little wooden shelter from driftwood and palm trees, teaching him how to tie knots under the full moon. Jaebeom slept in the sand, too afraid to go back to the village and scavenge for anything because of the memories.

But by the third day he had had enough. He could not take the sand, the bearing sun and the salty smell any longer. He felt dirty all over.  
 “Youngjae?”  
Youngjae looked back from where he was knee deep in the water, attracting fish.  
 “Hm?”  
 “I need to leave.”

The waves went still. Youngjae stared as though he didn’t understand a word.  
 “What for?”  
Jaebeom didn’t know how to answer. How was he supposed to tell a god he hated all that he was, and not expect retaliation?  
 “I need to go to another village. I don’t want to stay on the beach forever.” Youngjae walked back towards him, almost imposingly. The waves followed his footsteps back into the sand.

 “You won’t be safe. Those people that destroyed the village are still out there.” His voice was steady, but Jaebeom could see his hand shake where it was pressed to his side. He couldn’t argue, though he hated the beach, he knew Youngjae was always there to help him.  
 “You could come with me?” Jaebeom tried. Youngjae shook his head, but did not expand.  
 “They killed your parents. Believe me, you don’t want to go out there.”  
Jaebeom doesn’t have the words capable to keep fighting. “Come on,” Youngjae puts a smile on, and the waves shyly roll onto the sand. “I’ll show you how to fish.”


	5. letting

Years had passed. Jaebeom laid on the woven palm leaf mat and waited for the white noise of the ocean to lull him to sleep.

 “Hey,” Youngjae whispered. It wasn’t uncommon for Youngjae to sleep next to him, but the days were short and wintry. He usually never left the warm of the waters.  
 “Hm?” Jaebeom replied. Youngjae took in a deep breath.  
 “The gods couldn’t have done anything.”  
 “What do you mean?”   
Youngjae picked at his tunic absently, having already draped the heavy sash over them as a blanket. Jaebeom wasn’t certain whether it was out of consideration for Jaebeom, or because he himself was cold.  
 “When you asked why the gods did nothing, we couldn’t. We didn’t see it coming.”

Youngjae, for a god, was incredibly delicate at times. Jaebeom didn’t say anything, but looked at him to continue. “Gods are made out of human belief. When our people die, we die.”  
He didn’t continue. Jaebeom filled in the blanks.  
 “How are you still here?” Jaebeom whispered.  
 “You,” Youngjae answered almost immediately. “You’re the only human left that believes in me.”

At Jaebeom’s frown, Youngjae smiled placidly. It eased him, like it always did, but part of him didn’t. The same part of him that had the guts to argue with a god. If he hadn’t had made it to the beach on time, would Youngjae already have disappeared? Would he already be dead? He searches Youngjae’s sleeping face.  
If Jaebeom simply stopped believing, would Youngjae disappear?


	6. the waves

Jaebeom couldn’t ignore the feeling in his gut. If everything suddenly hinged on his belief, what if he stopped believing? Youngjae acted so unaffected, laughing and living loose, as if his existence would never be erased. If Jaebeom stopped believing, would Youngjae even notice? Thinking back on that day, would Jaebeom still be immortal if Youngjae disappeared? It was these morbid thoughts that crept up on him in moments of silence, swirling inside him until he was brimming with them.

 “Youngjae?” he gasped after he surfaced.  
 “Hm?”  
 “If I, for some reason… stopped believing in you,” he paused to catch his breath, “would I stop being immortal?” Youngjae simply shook his head, the ocean becoming a murky blue colour.

They kept diving as per normal, but it was obvious Jaebeom’s words had affected him, as the sand along the bottom had been stirred up. He couldn’t see anything. When they finally gave up, the weather was overcast. He didn’t think Youngjae could control the weather, but from the anxious frown etched into his young face, it’s possible Youngjae assumed control over other elements.

If Youngjae was made of human- no, Jaebeom’s belief, why was he so real? On another sleepless, and Youngjae-less, night, he wondered if maybe he should stop believing. Let Youngjae go, and move onto another village. How debilitating must it be to rely on a single human.

In the following days, Jaebeom avoided eye contact, avoided response. Youngjae asked him what was wrong. Jaebeom said he was feeling sick. Youngjae made him stay inside his shelter, unwrapping his sash to cover Jaebeom’s shoulders. Youngjae checked on him throughout the day, dark circles growing under his eyes. This was what Jaebeom was doing to him. Making him weak and tired.

By the end of the third day, Youngjae trudged in, absolutely exhausted.  
 “I made you soup,” he whispered, ungracefully collapsing beside him on the weathered palm mat.  
 “Huh?”  
Youngjae nodded absently, curling into himself.

Jaebeom stood stiffly, drawing the shawl close and peering out to the beach. In the fire pit sat his steaming makeshift pot. He shuffled over, following the salty scent. Inside the pot sat an artful arrangement of mussels, seaweed and fish. He felt the side of the pot to test the heat. It was warm, but not scalding. His resolve melted. Youngjae didn’t cook, because he didn’t need to eat. He was also exceptionally bad at starting fires. He taught him to fish and mould clay, but he hated watching Jaebeom gut and descale fish. Jaebeom reached for his little clay bowl, letting the broth and pieces of seaweed filter in. He brought it up to his lips to taste. Of course, it wasn’t perfect. It tasted of the fish, but wasn’t salty enough.

And if anything, that hurt more. He wolfed down the whole meal, trying to convince himself to somehow keep up the ignorance act. It was working, as he remembered Youngjae’s lethargy. Did he really want Youngjae to disappear? He stared at the empty pot, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand.

No, he didn’t.


	7. swallow him

The years passed with ease, and one day he awoke to the sound of commotion echoing down the cliff. He walked out, rubbing sleep from his eyes. Steel scaffolding rose above the ashes of his forgotten village. People. There was people building these steel structures. All the things he saved away for the odd chance he ever saw humans again came back to him. He was going to introduce himself with zest. He was going introduce them to Youngjae, so Youngjae could leave the beach.

He looked out to the sea for Youngjae, unable to hold back a wide grin. Youngjae’s bright eyes peeked out of the shallows.  
 “I’m going to the village.”  
 “Be safe,” Youngjae half-smiled at him.

He felt like a completely different person. These new people regarded him with pity, admiration or disinterest when he told them he’s the lone survivor. He felt as though he were shining. When people asked how he could have survived for nearly 8 years on his own, he accredited it to the sea god, looking proudly out to the ocean. No one took that tale seriously, but it barely dimmed his shine.

When he returned to the beach in the night, he was still wearing a grin. Youngjae emerged from the water yawning.  
 “You’re back late.”  
 “Sorry. I got carried away meeting everyone and then they invited me to dinner.” Youngjae hummed in approval.  
 “I was kind of worried you weren’t coming back again,” he mumbled, accompanying Jaebeom’s walk to his shelter. Jaebeom shook his head, slinging his arm around Youngjae’s shoulder.  
 “Don’t worry. I’ll always come back to the beach.”

Jaebeom learned these new villagers were planning on turning the village into a city. He didn’t exactly know what a city could look like, but if it was even more lively than a village, he was completely on board. They didn’t accept trades, but they had a thing called money. Youngjae seemed to understand it, and encouraged him to bring them abalone. The city-people gave him lots of coins, which he poured over with Youngjae. People even came down to the beach to ask about the abalone. They marvelled that he could dive without any fancy equipment. Youngjae was quiet around them. He didn’t talk to these city people, nor did they talk to him. Jaebeom squeezed his hand in encouragement every time he accredited his skills to him. For the first time since he lost his people, he was happy.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hey if you wanted a somewhat happy ending, I recommend you end here


	8. up and up

Youngjae mirrored Jaebeom in age, but at the age people called him an adult, for some reason Youngjae was a little shorter than him. Youngjae was never particularly touchy before, but he made a habit of hugging Jaebeom when he came back to the beach every night. He said it was because Jaebeom was the right height.

People came down to the beach just to play in the water. Youngjae must have found it endearing, because he watched him create rainbows and call dolphins into the bay. When he dove for abalone, the coral was alive in vivid colours. Jaebeom suspected Youngjae had gained some human belief, something he proved right, as he observed Youngjae age regressing to play with children. Ran around, building elaborate sand castles and dancing in shiny bait fish. The things Youngjae did when Jaebeom was no older than them. He was in good hands. Finally, Jaebeom was old enough to go beyond the expanding city and the beach.

He had already told everyone in the city he was leaving. Hugged all the mothers and fathers he never had the chance to, the little brothers and sisters he never had. And he had been putting it off, because he knew Youngjae would be upset. But he was the last person he had to tell.

Youngjae ran out from where a large wave rolled into shore, barrelling into Jaebeom with his arms open.  
 “Youngjae,” he squeezes him. “I have something to tell you.”  
 “Oh?” Youngjae pulled back and studied his face. His eyes sparkled in the reflection of the moonlit sea.  
 “I have something to tell you too.”  
 “Then you go first.”  
 “No, you said it first. You go first.”

Jaebeom sucked in a breath, holding Youngjae’s hands.  
 “I’ve decided to move. To a big city far from here. I’m an adult now, and those people who bombed the village are locked away. I’ll be safe.”  
Youngjae stared at their intertwined fingers, slipping out of them without resistance. He didn’t meet Jaebeom’s eyes, silent but still close to him. “How can we keep in touch?”  
Youngjae tensed, letting his fringe hide his expression.  
 “Just think of me, once in a while.”  
 “Youngjae, what did you want to tell me before?”  
 “Nothing.” Youngjae steps away, meeting his gaze briefly to say his next words. Jaebeom has never seen his face contorted so sourly, nostrils flared. “Believe me, it doesn’t matter.”


	9. until

Youngjae barely survived. Child to child, getting by, but never quite catching on. City people didn’t take the time to devote themselves to gods, as much as they did to money. They called themselves open-minded, but never enough to believe what their children believed. Life, as much a god could call the brink of death life, was miserable. That was, until another deity walked down to the shore.

This deity was strong. Stood a little shorter than his own 20 something year old build, but radiated the warmth of hundreds.  
 “Oh, hi! I didn’t know there were even still gods in this part of town,” the god remarks. Youngjae cleared his moody clouds to welcome this friendly spirit. He would get up and shake hands or something, but it had been a strain to materialise functioning legs as of late, so he just nodded his head politely. He probably looked like a lame mermaid.

“You okay?” the god walked to him, but the incoming wave made him hiss and stamp his boots in the sand.  
 “Sorry. I’m fine,” Youngjae smiled weakly, pulling back the tide so the god could step toward him.  
 “Sure don’t look fine,” he crept along the dry patch of sand towards him. Youngjae rested on his weak elbows. 

 “It’s been a rough few decades,” he sighed. “Where are you from?”  
 “Me? North,” the god took a seat in front of him. From this close, Youngjae could sense the god was made of bonfires and family gatherings.  
 “It’s summer there, not a lot of need for fires and sacrifice, so I decided to look around. I came to say hi to Jinyoung but…”  
 “About that,” Youngjae looked away to watch the grey waves smash into the distant rocks.

Images of the dashing god of flames flicker to mind. So this must be Jackson. The destroyed tapestries told the tale of the twin flames, choking and burning each other until Jinyoung won. The villagers believed it was because Jackson was too confident, and didn’t cover his weaknesses. Humility and various good values were ripe in Mark’s teachings. The gods once knew them as the matches that burned together and each other, on and off until Mark exiled him so the villagers wouldn’t suspect anything. It was so long ago Youngjae could barely remember.

“He’s- well, I’ll just say the war took us by surprise. And only one of the villagers survived it.”  
 “Ah the war… that’s right, this used to be a village.” Youngjae basked in the bittersweet memories momentarily. “So only one of the villagers survived?”    
 “Yes,” Youngjae whispered, feeling more tired than ever. “He’s the only reason I made it this far.”

“Anyway,” Youngjae sank his elbows into the moist sand, “how did you make it this far?”  
 “An eternal flame. As long as they keep it burning, I can go anywhere,” Jackson says, quiet pride in his voice. It’s so sappy- Jackson obviously loved his followers. “How nice,” Youngjae replied, more bitter than intended. Feeling pressured to continue, he confessed. “I’m dying. People here are moving on from us, and I can’t even leave the beach to reverse it.”

“You need him,” Jackson stated. Youngjae looked up at him in surprise. Jackson’s honey eyes dripped with more maturity than Youngjae expected.  
 “Who?” Youngjae feigned. Jackson pulled a face at his lie.  
 “Your last follower. I’ll help you.”  
 “How?”

Jackson extended a hand. Youngjae hesitated, but propped himself up to grasp it. Fire flooded his veins upon contact, smoke and sparks lighting under his skin. It felt completely wrong, on the cause of their opposing elements, but he couldn’t take his hand away. The sand around them scorched and blackened. Jackson retracted his hand with a jolt. “Three days. I gave you enough to move around for three days. Come on, try it out,” Jackson grinned, dizzingly bright.  
Youngjae barely understood another word he said. He hadn’t felt this alive since creation. He was light and free. Without effort, his legs materialised and he walked out of the blue confines. The acrid heat simmered back into the cold he knew. He’s going to find Jaebeom, he realised.

He wouldn’t die before he saw him.


	10. he was

Youngjae didn’t have any innate sense of direction. He just followed the road out of the city, until after getting frustratingly lost among the symmetrical black and white skyscrapers of another city, he felt a pull. It was another black, faceless building, but the pull gave him the courage to fly up and up. He stopped at a floor to ceiling window, and through the tinted glass stood a familiar figure. He flew effortlessly through the window.

It was Jaebeom. His features were a little older, black hair neat and out of his face. He was wearing some kind of city-goer get up, a white button up and black slacks. Youngjae felt out of place in his ultra-archaic robes.  
 “Hey!” Youngjae greets him. Jaebeom walked towards him, and while making eye contact, straight through him.

So Jaebeom couldn’t see him. Youngjae hadn’t planned on this, but it was only a minor setback. A minor setback which was major actually, he had just tomorrow and the day after to bring Jaebeom back to the seaside city. But years of trying to turn around the rational thinkers made him skilled in tricks.

Youngjae spent the next day following him around, spinning the glass tank fish in spirals and stars, bursting water mains when the sun rose to scatter rainbows. Jaebeom kept on his way. Youngjae had no other choice but to ramp it up.

On the final day, Youngjae jammed his water supply. At work, he only let the coworkers get water from the taps. When they tried to console him by offering him a glass, Youngjae tripped them. It came to a head that night, when Jaebeom tried to turn the shower head on. Where he was kicking it this morning, he just collapsed in the tub with his head in his hands. He was so worn out under the bathroom’s fluorescent yellow light. Youngjae couldn’t help but pity him, and let the water dribble out of the shower head, warm even though Jaebeom distinctly yanked the cold tap. Jaebeom smiled bitterly up at the shower head. It’s enough just to see him smile again, Youngjae thought to himself, and left him to shower.

So that’s it. Youngjae logically didn’t really believe Jaebeom would honour his word, but somewhere in his clouded mind he blindly trusted him. He watched the door. He would wait and say a final goodbye to Jaebeoms oblivious back and die in peace. Fuck you, he wanted to say. This was why humans and gods didn’t get close and become friends, and other foolish things.

Jaebeom exited the bathroom in just a towel, and made eye-contact with Youngjae.  
 “Youngjae?”  
Youngjae couldn’t believe it. Jaebeom blinks and squints. Ignoring his wet, half-naked body; he was still as boyish as Youngjae remembered.  
 “Yeah?” he answered, no louder than a whisper. Youngjae fought the urge to hug him as he might have when they were younger.  
 “…Hold on, let me get dressed,” Jaebeom ducked into the next room, and emerged possibly even more underdressed, in just his boxers. “You want something to eat or… I don’t know?” Jaebeom said aloud, hanging his towel back in the bathroom. It was then Youngjae realised they never made up after Jaebeom told him he was leaving.

“Right, well,” Jaebeom shrugged, sitting on the threadbare couch. His apartment was barely furnished, but for someone who didn’t shower until he was fifteen, he looks all too comfortable. He patted the cushion beside him, motioning for Youngjae. “You’re a long way from home,” He said, hiding his hands under his legs. Youngjae cautiously took the seat next to him.  
 “So are you,” Youngjae crossed his arms. “You want to know how I got here, right?” Jaebeom nodded slightly, dark eyes trained on his. “You wouldn’t know him, but a god who survived the war gave me three days to find you.” Jaebeom swallowed in the following silence.  
 “And if you didn’t?”  
 “Then I would die. I found you though, didn’t I?”  
 “You found me,” Jaebeom echoed.

 “Come back home,” Youngjae blurted out. Jaebeom’s expression betrayed inner conflict. “The kids are moving on. No one is impressed by rainbows and dolphins anymore. All I do is sit in the sea waiting to die.” And Youngjae couldn’t say it, but he didn’t want to die knowing Jaebeom was out here alone.  
 “Okay. I’m sick of the city anyway.” Youngjae couldn’t hold back a smile.  
 “Then let’s go.”  
 “Right now?”  
 “Yeah.”

Under the black sky, the stars became brighter and brighter the closer Youngjae got to his city. Jaebeom said he would meet Youngjae there, hailing a taxi and lamenting money. He reached the beach first of course, and the moment he did, his borrowed energy rushed out. His legs disintegrated, and he rushed to get to the water. The high tide should have felt like home, but its push and pull just reminded him of how powerless he was. He was so sleepy. He had to stay awake for Jaebeom.

He dragged himself away from the nothingness of the water, up the sand to Jaebeom’s shelter. It was preserved exactly how he left it. The waning crescent was visible through the gaps in the rotting wood, the sand that always managed to sneak its way into his clothes, the low rumble of the waves. Youngjae heaved himself into the space he used to fit beside Jaebeom’s spot, and waited. He waited and he waited, and against his will, he fell asleep.

When he woke, he was still alone. The empty sand beside him mocked him. It was a wonder he didn’t die in the night, if the dryness in his mouth spoke for anything. There were a few families soaking in the late morning sun. Someone poked their head in the shelter. It was Jaebeom, that traitorous human.  
 “Good morning,” Jaebeom said, like there was nothing wrong with breaking promises.  
 “I waited for you,” Youngjae rasped, sitting up with a groan. “You said you would meet me at the beach. Where were you?”  
 “Last night? I thought you meant to meet in the morning. I stayed at a hotel,” Jaebeom answered, crouching down in the small doorway, with the audacity to look innocent. Youngjae wanted to say something biting, knock that unguarded look off his face. But it was Jaebeom. He couldn’t bring himself to.

And he was a fool to think they would immediately go back to how they used to be. Clearly the few years had put more distance between them than Youngjae realised. “It’s good weather to dive, isn’t it?” Jaebeom commented, glancing at the gentle swell and cloudless sky. Youngjae could change that in an instant. But the truth was, he didn’t want to put anymore distance between them. He still wanted things to go back to the way they used to, or as close to it as possible.  
 “Yeah.”

Jaebeom took a different approach to everything now. He wore a wetsuit and mask- even though Youngjae remembered he never complained about vision, and diving gave him big lungs. “You know you used to dive without a shirt on, right?” Youngjae levels with him.  
 “Yeah. Then melanomas became a thing to avoid,” Jaebeom flashes him a smile.

Once Youngjae hit the water, everything melted away. Next to his one believer, he had the strength to grow clams for Jaebeom to discover. Jaebeom gushed over a pearl, and ate mussels. Youngjae couldn’t help but feel like he found the new in the old, the old in the new. And he loved it. For the day, things were good between them. This was until Jaebeom told him he has to go back to his city. It floored Youngjae. Just when they were getting comfortable in each other’s presence, Jaebeom drove them apart with his independent human spirit. Youngjae didn’t want to let him slip away, like he did last time. Youngjae knelt in the sand before him, and begged. Knelt. To a human. Jaebeom said he would visit more often, like that was any substitute. It was not.

Fuck you, Youngjae wanted to say. But he let him go.

Jaebeom stayed true to his word though. He visited every Sunday, sometimes for a few hours, others for the whole day. He sometimes quietened, and Youngjae didn’t get why until he realised it was because other humans were passing by. How humiliating. Jaebeom used to introduce everyone to Youngjae.  
Jaebeom was still terrific with children though. When a curious little human ventured into the wooden shelter, Jaebeom had no hesitation letting them in, listening to their blabber. It didn’t fit Jaebeom and the child, so Jaebeom talked to them from the outside. Youngjae just watched from the throes of the waterline. After a few looks his way from the child, Youngjae realised Jaebeom is telling the child the stories from the tapestries he learnt from his parents.

It was probably incorrect in some sections from Mark’s censure, and Jaebeom’s memory from before the age of seven, but the child saw him nonetheless. A human. That could see him. The feeling filled him with a little more life. Youngjae waved at the little one. They waved back cutely. Youngjae looked to Jaebeom, who was excitedly watching the exchange.

I love you, Youngjae wanted to say. But he didn’t.


	11. the lilac

It was back. That aching Youngjae had waited so long to shake was back. The stupid, human feeling that made him want to hug Jaebeom every time he saw him. He loved him.

And Youngjae was sure it was a curse and a blessing. All the right things happened when he fought to keep it off his lips. Jaebeom rebuilt the shelter, hands effortlessly tying knots and weaving palm leaves. Children were drawn to him as he worked, the first child, and then another, and another. He built it to the same height as well, spinning yarns of Youngjae and the village the city was built on. Later he offhandedly asked Youngjae if he should just become a teacher so strangers stop apologising and pulling their children away. Youngjae just laughed. The power of belief wasn’t any different, child to parent to elder. Youngjae got used to feeling stable, assured tomorrow he would still wake up.

Jaebeom visited him on Sunday, almost bouncing in excitement.  
 “I have news,” he announced.  
 “Good news or bad news?”  
 “The paperwork is finalised. I’m transferring here.”

And then all the wrong things happened when he didn’t.

Jaebeom visited him most days after work. When he didn’t come for the third day in a row, and Youngjae thinks he has the strength to leave the beach for a little while, Youngjae set out to find him. Navigating up the stairs cut into the hillside, he let a weak pull decide his directions. After a few dead ends among the towering vertical blocks, the pull led him to an apartment complex at the edge of the cliff.

He wasn’t in any mood to fly, so he just walked through the revolving doors and skipped the elevator for the stairs. Luckily, the pull stopped him at the second floor. He didn’t feel like pleasantries as much as he felt like getting the truth, so he unlocked the door upon touch, and welcomed himself in. Among the new furniture, he recognised the threadbare couch, and the man he’s looking for hunched over in a computer chair. He closed the door behind him and walked over. Jaebeom rested his cheek on his hand, blinking slowly like he might fall asleep any minute.

 “Hey,” Youngjae said softly. Jaebeom jolted in surprise, hitting his knees on the top of the desk and crying out in pain. “Are you okay?” Youngjae questioned. Jaebeom just rested his head on the desk, his hands balled up.  
 “Yep. Never better, thanks.” Jaebeom took a moment to breathe, finally pushing his hair back and fixing Youngjae a pained look.  
 “What were you doing?” Youngjae motions to the glaring monitor.  
 “My boss left me with all his dodgy reports to fix before the audit. Because I fractured my toe,” Jaebeom explained, and wheeled himself out a bit so Youngjae could examine. It was bandaged, and in some more protective bandaging that Youngjae didn’t understand but approved of. This would more than explain his absence.

“Youngjae,” Jaebeom directs at him. His tired eyes convey a struggle to hide his pain. “Am I still immortal?” Youngjae nodded. “Why do I still get cuts, and bruises, and broken bones?”  
 “Because you’re immortal, not invincible,” Youngjae sighed. Jaebeom squints in confusion. “Believe me, it’s much better than being invincible. Because you’re immortal, you might get scratched up, but you’re still your handsome self who heals over time. And you have all the time you could ever want.”

Jaebeom healed slowly. Youngjae visited him as often as he could, and eventually it completely healed, so routine could resume. Jaebeom continued telling as many of the tales as he could remember. Over time though, Youngjae noticed he didn’t even need to have told certain children these stories. Children who he recognised brought children who could already see him. His following stabilised as these children started growing, maintaining faith. Youngjae loved them in their own ways, but it never amounted to anything like the deep chest pain that was loving Jaebeom. Jaebeom didn’t age much past how old he currently was.

And this became a problem, because the teenage children liked to tease and ask him how he hadn’t aged a day. Moisturiser? Face lifts? Jaebeom laughed, but looked to Youngjae for help. Youngjae just told them it was it devout belief that gave him clear skin.

One afternoon, Jaebeom broke it to him.  
 “I think…. I should move away.” Upon Youngjae’s scared expression, he elaborated. “Well… isn’t it weird that a nearly forty-year-old still looks like a twenty-year-old? I don’t even have a frown line, and I frown so much. Look, I even just frowned then,” he laughed. Youngjae smiled with one side of his mouth.  
 “I know, but…”  
 “You’re scared I’ll forget you. Like last time?”  
 “Yeah,” Youngjae says quietly, picking his hands. Youngjae can wander the city, like he used to wander the village, but not a foot beyond it. Youngjae couldn’t possibly go and check on him.  
 “I’ll still visit you. Just not as often. Can’t be seen by the kids, or they’ll all want to be immortal.” Jaebeom reached out and squeezed Youngjae’s hands. “I’ll make it work. Believe me.” And Youngjae was a fool enough to believe him.

The beach was empty of its preacher for long periods at a time. All the kids that could still see Youngjae wanted to hear the tapestries from the horse’s mouth. Youngjae delivered, never as charismatic and passionate, as Jaebeom, but he gave them an extra tale. The story of the boy who saved a god.  
Jaebeom’s absences spaced out longer and longer. Youngjae told him every time he shows up he’s back late, and Jaebeom shrugged. Of course, it was not like the time really mattered to Youngjae, they had aeons of it yet. And yet for all that time, Youngjae couldn’t get over how much he yearned to keep Jaebeom every time he had to leave. He burned to know what kept Jaebeom longer and longer- thrice a year, to twice a year, to once. It was painful to waste everyday watching the head of the beach, and the highway into the city just to see this human. Loving him was a blessing and a curse.

When he didn’t tell him, all was good. When he did, it all went to hell.

Youngjae couldn’t fight himself over it anymore.  
 “Jaebeom,” Youngjae said at his retreating back. Jaebeom turned around. “You take longer and longer to visit, every time. You used to visit every break, now you’re here once a year.”  
 “I’m sorry.”  
 “Where do you go? What’s keeping you there?” Jaebeom walked back until he was right in front of him.  
 “There’s something I have to tell you.” Youngjae’s gut sank as he said he did too. Jaebeom sucked in a deep breath. “I met a woman last year.” Youngjae nodded as every fibre of his being screamed at him to run back to ocean and never come back out. “She’s honestly amazing in every way. I think I’m going to marry her.”  
Fuck you, Youngjae wants to say.  
 “I love you,” is what leaves his lips.

Jaebeom never visits again.


	12. and nothing more

Jaebeom didn’t visit, even when Youngjae was sure his maybe wife couldn’t have still been alive. He didn’t visit even when he must have had three wives. He didn’t visit, even when humans went to war with themselves again, and destroyed the seaside city, and then Youngjae had no one. Youngjae just laid in the lapping lilac waves, dying slowly and infinitely more painfully, knowing Jaebeom was never going to visit again. He knocked the shelter over in an angry tsunami a while back, stripping the beach of every single grain of sand that might have remembered what his footsteps looked like. No one was going to visit again.

Until someone did.  
 “Youngjae?” someone shouted from the beach. Youngjae peeked up from the waves. It was him. It was Jaebeom. He immediately stood out of the water. This was it. Youngjae was going to give him an earful about how beyond hell awful this human was. He marched up to him, footsteps softening when he realised Jaebeom was crying.

In the centuries that Youngjae had known of this human, he hadn’t cried since Youngjae first met him. “Sorry,” Jaebeom wiped away his tears, sighing. “Youngjae. I don’t want to be immortal anymore.”

Youngjae bristled. This sad fool had the audacity to ask Youngjae to basically kill him. “Please,” he cried out, and Youngjae is struck by the raw pain in his voice. “I’m sick of watching my friends die over and over again. I’m sick of loving people just to leave them. I’m sick of living Youngjae,” he rants, voice tightening on the final sentence.

Youngjae still wants to deny him, but that was when Jaebeom sank to his knees. “I’m sorry I left. I promised you I’d visit and I fucked up. Youngjae,” he chokes up on his name. “I’m sorry I don’t love you back.”

And Youngjae already knew this. He knew the moment Jaebeom first told him he was leaving that there was no way Jaebeom would ever love him back. Hearing it makes it real. It was final. Youngjae would always love the boy who would never love him back. “Please. I’ve tried so hard to reverse it- I’ve tried to stop believing and forget about you, but I can’t.”

Youngjae gently pulled Jaebeom up from his knees.  
 “Okay,” he mumbles, and Jaebeom crushes him in a hug. Youngjae could almost cry himself. He lets himself have this last moment. Jaebeom’s tears find their way to Youngjae’s neck. He sobs quietly in Youngjae’s embrace. Youngjae takes away his immortality. Jaebeom shudders and pulls away.  
 “Thank you,” he says softly, still holding onto Youngjae’s arms. “For everything.”

He walked past him, out into the water, letting the waves swallow him up and up, until he was the lilac, and nothing more.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hi! thank you for making it this far. if you liked it leave a kudos, or comment how much you hate it or smth. if you have twitter come yell with me about got7 @sennyght!


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